The Clangor
by gwebn
Summary: "3am and the fire alarm in our apartment complex just went off let me lend you my jacket while we wait on the sidewalk" Prompt. America/Belgium because why not. (Now without weird html)


3 AM. The ear splitting clangor of the fire alarm rings out in Emma's apartment building, sending the startled Belgian to floor of her bedroom cussing in a muffled mix of Dutch and French.

Really? The fire alarms are going off again? This is the fourth time this month.

After untangling herself out of her mass of blankest that accompanied her to the floor and finding herself topless, she fumbled through the darkness of her room and threw on the shirt closest to hand. At that particular moment, she didn't care that it was the pink cat face crop top she had went clubbing in the other day or how ridiculous it looked with her soft grey "athletic" shorts. All she cared about at the moment was getting out the building so they can turn off those damn alarms and let her back into her apartment to continue her night's sleep.

She realized her mistake as soon as she stepped through the doors and a brisk, autumn breeze blew across her midriff.

_Schijt._

Standing on the sidewalk across the street as instructed by the sleepy building manager, Emma shivered. 'It was warm this afternoon.' She silently complained to herself, crossing her arms to retain some body heat. 'I hope whoever set off the alarm is happy with themselves.'

"Hey!"

"Huh?" Confused, she turned to look for the source of the call. The source, a tall, blonde man with Ray Ban knock-off glasses and a smile straight and white like a military cemetery, was standing to her left. He was holding a zip up hoodie.

"You're wearing, like, a third of the clothing I am. Do you wanna borrow this?" He asked as he put the hoodie around her shoulders. It smelled lightly of Axe… and french fries. "Of course you do! It's fricking _freezing_ out here. Better?"

"Much better, thanks" She nodded and pushed her arms through the sleeves. They fell far past her fingers but she wasn't complaining. It was warm and the man who gave it to her has a nice face.

"Who do you think burned their popcorn and set the alarm off this time?" She asked jokingly, looking over the sleepy-eyed crowd of people. "I bet it was that guy with the bowl cut."

"Kiku?" The American laughed. "Nah, I think it was the guy with the mole and fake glasses that plays classic music at weird hours. "

"That guy?" Emma gestured toward the brunette man standing on the street corner in his bathrobe. "I could see it. He seems like the type to make us suffer out here in the cold. How do you know his glasses are fake?"

"Dude. Have you even been close enough to him? He doesn't even have lenses in them. They're just empty frames!" The man shook his head. "Watch out for that guy. _He's an impostor._"

"Oh my god." Emma snickered at the expense of the man with the fake glasses. "I always thought he was shady."

"I know, right? Now you know it's the truth." The man says, looking pleased with himself. "Oh hey, I think people are going inside."

He was right. To Emma's dismay, people were slowly starting to file back into the building.

"Oh." She sighed. "I guess this means I finally get to go back to bed."

"Yeah, it looks like it." He says, running his hand across the back of his neck. "Hey, wait! Before you go, I uh just wanted to say you're really cool to talk to and really easy on the eyes and you have a really really cute accent and and my sweatshirt looks good on you so I think it's a sign- Can we go out sometime? My name is Alfred F. Jones, by the way, nice to meet cha!"

Not expecting that outburst, Emma blinked… then stared to beam. "Why not? Are you busy tomorrow?"

"Nope!" Alfred F Jones said with an enthusiastic head shake.

"Good." She laughed. "Well, Alfred, my name is Emma Dumont. I can meet you at in the courtyard at… 6?"

"Awesome!" He said, triumphantly. "I'll be there!"

Emma, still cold even after entering the building and having no doubts he would show up tomorrow in the court yard, decided to borrow the sweatshirt a little longer. He can have it back later.


End file.
